"
Within five minutes Mr. Fogo was seated by the corner of the hearth,
and watching her as she heated the beer which, together with rum,
sugar, and lemon, forms the drink known and loved by Trojans as
Shenachrum. The Twins had retired to wash in the little out-house at
the back, and their splashing was audible every now and again above
the crackling of the wood fire, which now, as before, filled the
kitchen with fragrance. Its warmth struck kindly into Mr. Fogo's
knees, and coloured Tamsin's cheeks with a hot red as she bent over
the flame. He watched her profile in thoughtful silence for some
moments, and then fell to staring at the glowing sticks and the
shadows of the pot-hooks and hangers on the chimney-back.
"So that is Shenachrum?" he said at last, to break the silence.
"Yes."
"And what, or who, is Samson?"
"Samson is brandy and cider and sugar."
"With his hair on?"
She laughed.
"That means more brandy. Samson was double as strong, you know, with
his hair on."
"I see."
The silence was resumed. Only the tick-tack of the tall clock and
the splashing of the Twins disturbed it. She turned to glance at him
once, and then, seeing his gaze fixed upon the fire that twinkled on
the rim of his spectacles and emphasised the hollows of his face, had
looked for a moment more boldly before she bent over her task again.
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